“Don’t be disgusting.” The thought is so repulsive I can’t help but shiver.
“Am I going to have to see a bunch of Hollywood girls you’ve slept with, when we're at the ceremony tomorrow?”
I pause, mentally running through a list in my head of Ella’s friends I might or might not have banged. It’s not a small list, but I don’t tell her that. “Maybe.”
“Shit, Caulter,” she says, slapping my hand. “Don’t fucking tell me that.”
“You asked. You want me to lie to you?”
“I don’t know what I want,” she says. “But we can’t keep doing this, you know.”
“Why the hell not?” I ask. “Other than that you have some fucking hang ups.”
“Me and the rest of the world,” she says. “They’re getting married.”
“So?” I ask. “We’re not actually related. You do realize that, don’t you?”
She shakes her head. This little chunk of hair falls over her forehead and across her eye when she moves, and I lift it back into place. “That’s what people will think, Caulter.”
“No,” I say. “People will think we’re two adults who are completely unrelated and who are also screwing.”
“That’s all this is, right?” she asks.
“What do you want from me, Kate?” I ask. I sound annoyed, but the truth is, I've thought about this. She has no idea how much I've fucking thought about her -- or us. I never stop thinking about it.
Doesn’t she get how absolutely insane it is that I’ve been with her, and only her, since the end of the school year? That is not me. Sticking my cock in one pussy for months is not me. Spending all my fucking time with she same chick is not me. Laughing at the stupid little things that chick says when I’m lying in bed at night, before I fall asleep, is not me either. Yet, here we are.
“You want me to be your fucking boyfriend or something?" I ask. "Or you want this to be our dirty little secret? I’m not sure what the hell you’re going for here."
She looks at me through narrowed eyes. She might be irritated, but it says something that we're having this conversation while I'm still inside her, with my hand on her tit. “I’m saying we can’t keep doing this, because we’re going to get caught.”
I thumb my finger over her nipple. “Says the chick who was moaning so loud a minute ago we were sure to get caught.”
“Because you make me crazy,” she says. “I can’t trust myself with you.”
“So you want to stop?” Her nipple is hard under my finger, and I feel my cock begin to stir again. This girl is like taking a little blue pill. I’m constantly hard for her.
“We shouldn’t keep going,” she says.
“They’re not married yet.”
“They will be tomorrow.”
“So tomorrow we’ll stop,” I say, pinching her nipple between my fingers and watching her flinch. But she doesn’t smack my hand away. Instead, her pussy muscles tighten around me.
“Just like that?” she asks.
“Just like that,” I tell her. “You don’t want to fuck me, I won’t fuck you.”
“It’s that easy for you.”
Of course not, I want to say. As if I want to stop fucking her? This girl has me wrapped around the axle, thinking about her constantly. I can’t stop. But I don’t tell her that. I can’t tell her that. “It’s that easy.”
“Fine,” she says, her jaw clenching. But when I roll my palm across her other breast, she arches her back into my touch. “Then we’ll stop.”
“We should probably screw as much as possible today,” I whisper. “If we’re going to stop.”
“Yes,” she says. “We should.” She presses her hips toward mine, and I reach down, gripping her thigh.
“I’d hate for you be walking down the aisle tomorrow any way other than bow-legged,” I say.
“You’re such a prick,” she says, as my cock stiffens. But she’s smiling.
Today’s the day.
My father’s wedding to Ella.
Caulter was true to his word. He left me walking like a cowboy dismounted a horse after days of riding. The stylist doing my hair this morning asked if I was okay, and my face turned the shade of eggplant.
This wedding is the social event in this part of New Hampshire. It's a huge deal. Thank God our lake house wasn't big enough for it to be held in the backyard; my father's engagement party in the yard of my mother's favorite place was tacky as hell already.